


Being Fair

by Curlsandcollege



Series: Their New Faerghus Repression [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bisexual Sylvain Jose Gautier, F/M, Minor Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Nobility, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-War, Proposals, Weddings, awkward wedding night traditions, social norms, talking about feelings sometimes, that old faerghus repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlsandcollege/pseuds/Curlsandcollege
Summary: “Well my other major responsibility is to make sure our little crested couple consummates”“That’s insane!”“That’s Faerghus”While at the very first post war wedding, Dorothea and Sylvain flirt and discuss Faerghus marriage and purity politics. It’s sure to be a fun and flirty time as long as they ignore the last conversation they had at the end of the war. When Sylvain may have suggested, lightly, that Dorothea should marry him.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Their New Faerghus Repression [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880089
Comments: 17
Kudos: 64
Collections: That Old Faerghus Repression





	1. That Old Faerghus Repression

**Author's Note:**

> Strap in, we're talking sexual politics! 
> 
> I really don't get why more people don't ship these two- they're really well matched

For the life of her, Dorothea could not understand why anyone in Faerghus would choose to have a winter wedding. Pegasus Moon in Enbarr was crisp, but pretty. She could handle a light dusting of snow but not the oppressive mountains of white that made travel nearly impossible and the most mundane of activities- from dressing to simply breathing- untenable.    
  


But a wedding seemed to be a happy enough excuse for a reunion. So she braved the trip and found herself freezing to death in a crowded ballroom.    
  
Dorothea thought she selected her outfit wisely. It might be freezing _ outside  _ but she had been paraded around enough parties in Enbarr in her youth to know that underdressing was the trick to looking polished while everyone else was shiny and unkept with sweat. However, much to her frustration she failed to account for how deep Faerghus chill permeated. It wasn’t just the weather that was cold. This was a celebration for goddesses sake! But the dancing remained formal, toasts brief and far too religious for her taste, and mingling stilted.    
  
Five drinks in, alcohol had ceased to warm her up any further. She was pleasantly blitzed, not slurring quite yet though she knew that could very well be on the horizon. Finding Ferdinand amusing rather than annoying was a sure sign she was drunker than expected.    
  
“Dorothea Arnault alone? In a room full of eligible nobles? I must be mistaken.” Recognizing the voice Dorothea smiled widely before turning around.    
  
“Waiting for you of course, I couldn’t possibly dance with anyone when there’s a clearly labeled First Man here.” A lie, she had danced with nearly all of her friends, and quite a few eligible nobles who were familiar enough with the Opera to approach. Sylvain smiled at her regardless. 

Seven months since their last meeting and flirting with Sylvain felt as easy as ever. Especially considering how they left things at the end of the war. A few letters back and forth didn’t really establish where they stood. But he seemed content to dance with her, so dance she would.    
  
The orchestra started up again and Dorothea felt Sylvain’s hand on the small of her back, leading her back onto the floor. This dance was simple, formal, with easy to follow and repetitive steps. 

  
Dorothea surveyed the room quickly to see if anyone was watching them. Never hurt to be noticed. Felix hadn’t been kidding that Kingdom nobility weren’t quick to cozy up to outsiders, and with the King and the Archbishop both in attendance she had been feeling a little neglected. She wasn’t great at entering a room just to be ignored. 

“I do love the beard Sylvie. Too cold up north without it?” Despite his insistence at staying clean shaven while they were marching all over Fodlan - _ need to leave a beautiful corpse, you know, for the ladies-  _ Sylvain had somehow shown up to his best friend’s wedding sporting a deeply unfashionable full beard.    
  
He smirked “Got tired of seeing my face in the mirror.”    
  
“I wonder if the next time I drag myself to Faerghus it will suddenly be a trend”    
  
“The First Man at the Fraldarius wedding shows up unshaven, leading to lazy good for nothings to declare it the hottest look for years to come.”    
  
He was just as skilled at dancing as nearly anything else he tried, which was to say infuriatingly good. He led well, and while his hand placement was a bit lower than was generally considered polite, Dorothea remembered just how much she had always liked dancing with him. The faster, informal dances of their youth were certainly more fun. But at least the sluggish pace allowed for easy conversation.    
  
“So explain what a First Man is exactly?” Sylvain’s formal attire was enhanced with a ribbon denoting him as such. 

Sylvain’s eyes widened a bit at the question. Dorothea prickled. How very like him to forget that not every single person was taught in their stately manor the exact ins and outs of court traditions for every single corner of Fodlan from birth.    
  
“Oh um… well First Man is a few different things. Responsibilities. I am to be Felix’s second if someone tries to duel him for his new wife’s hand…”    
  
They both glanced at the groom, who had insisted on carrying the Sword of Morlata to his own wedding where nearly everyone had come unarmed.    
  
“I think Felix would like it if someone tried to duel him today” 

  
“That is exactly what I said! Annette expressly forbid all of us from challenging Felix even just for fun”    
  
“Smart woman. So what  _ else _ does this great honor require of you?”    
  
Sylvain smiled mischievously, “Well my other major responsibility is to make sure our little crested couple consummates”    
  
Dorothea stumbled, “What?” Sylvain lifted her through a turn, putting her back into rhythm. His hands were so impossibly warm. 

  
“Traditionally I would have had to be in the room but it’s laxed a bit in recent years. Also Felix said he’d kill me if I tried. I basically sit outside and in the morning sign some paperwork that confirms that indeed the new Duke and Duchess Fraldarius have fucked” he laughed, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to say.    
  
Dorothea stared at him, waiting for him to tease her for being gullible or say  _ just kidding _ . But the moment stretched far beyond where the joke ended into truth. 

“That’s insane”    
  
“That’s Faerghus”    
  
“Why!?” She hissed, incredulous.    
  
Sylvain shrugged. While in the Kingdom army she had joked privately with some of her Alliance allies about “That old Faerghus repression,” but every time she felt her jokes were maybe a step too far, maybe unearned, a new fact would arise that made it abundantly clear she wasn’t joking enough. 

“Well… People like things to be official. Can’t go making some potential new Crest babies without  _ making babies _ ” He wiggled his eyebrows.    
  
“I mean can’t you just confirm it now? I like a dramatic moment but why the theatre when they’ve already…”    
  
Sylvain’s face hardened. “They haven’t”    
  
“Bullshit”    
  
Sylvain’s eyes dart over her head as he whispers “Dorothea I’m serious. And don’t let anyone hear that you doubt that or I may actually be Felix’s second when he  _ duels you _ .” 

The song ended and Dorothea stood expectantly, staring at Sylvain for answers. He sighed, grabbed her hand, and began leading her to a balcony. 

  
“You can’t take me out there. It’s freezing. I’m a lady. In delicate clothing” She sputtered, failing to resist because while she was certainly stronger than the average mage she was no match for someone who spent hours every day with a lance in hand.    
  
Sylvain unbuttoned his jacket and handed it to Dorothea expectantly. “ I’ll hold you the whole time we’re out there if that will make you happy. But if you want to talk, it’s out there where we can be alone”    
  
Dorothea rolled her eyes, annoyed but not too proud to take the extra layer. It was  _ warm _ . She could appreciate the fine furred collar and how it smelled just a little bit like bergamot. She would definitely not admit to him that she had taken to drinking bergamot recently just because she found the smell comforting.    
  
They walked onto the unsurprisingly empty balcony. Fraldarius manor overlooked the ocean and even as cold as she was, Dorothea couldn’t deny the view of cliffs breaking rocky shore was breathtaking. As she walked to the edge for a better look Sylvain leaned in, arms wrapping around her. She chose to believe that the goosebumps forming on her arms were from being outside.    
  
Clever, to any outside observer they’d appear to be canoodling rather than… whatever they were actually doing.    
  
“Okay Sylvie. I stood next to Annette during choir practice for a year and that girl was not great at covering hickies. Manuela told me that healers would constantly have to go find Felix in Annette’s tent when he was injured. Don’t lie to me.”    
  
Sylvain’s hand covered her mouth and he spoke urgently into her ear. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about so  _ listen _ . There are people in that room who are furious that Annette’s family supported the Empire. They do not want her to be married to the Duke of Fraldarius who is the second most powerful man in the Kingdom. Seriously, either of them not being a virgin could delegitimize their whole marriage. So not only should you shut up, because you’re about to cause an actual political circus, you’re also  _ wrong _ .” He huffs out a breath, the fog drifting.

“Annette is smart and she  _ knew _ the court might hate her for her uncle’s cowardice. Felix hates politics and tradition but he’s not  _ stupid _ . They didn’t sleep together the night before we took Fhirdiad, or the night before Enbarr, or any of the countless times they thought they might die in the past few years. So that if or when we got to this point, nobody would be able to say Annette wasn’t good enough to be Duchess and try to get in the way!” 

  
He removed his hand from her mouth and placed his hands over Dorothea’s on the railing. They stood quietly, Dorothea in stunned silence.  _ Those poor kids _ . Her heart broke a little, having to make choices like that so that they could get married if they survived the war. If they won.    
  
“So they couldn’t touch each other while fighting for the existence of their country but a few words and a fancy party later, it's suddenly so important that they need a  _ witness _ ? The Kingdom is messed up”    
  
Sylvain laughed “Now you’re getting it. For what it’s worth I don’t have to do much of anything tonight because they’ve been about ten seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off for months. If you want to spout rumors, there’s a tiny chance they did it in the carriage ride between the cathedral and here. I would have!” 

“Is there a  _ reason _ or is this just Kingdom nobility having a stick up their ass? Because it’s not like that in the Empire, let me tell you.”    
  
“Eh, historically it’s about legitimacy. Crests are king you know? Really important to not have bastards running around because if one of them pops out with a crest then  _ whoops that’s the heir _ . Propriety demands you marry the parent of the child, no matter who it might be, so they started enforcing some pretty rigid no sex before marriage rules. Doubly important for Felix since his house somehow still pops out major crests regularly so Fraldarius' succession is especially strict. Nobody really uses the rule nowadays unless they’re trying something petty and political but once it became the norm for crested nobles everyone else followed suit.”    
  
“So you’re saying this arbitrary nonsense is  _ fashion?”  _   
  
“In a sense. Trends of yesteryear are  _ traditions _ today.”    
  
“You broke the rules! You could have hundreds of bastards running around Fodlan for all we know!”    
  
“So my father likes to scream at me. Can’t marry me off if I’m constantly three seconds away from an obligatory quickie wedding. Now you see why I have flouted the rules so elegantly all these years. My philandering is really just leading by example...”    
  


She smiled, “So beards and fucking before marriage. Anything else you want to inspire your countrymen to take up?”

Sylvain leaned in even closer. Even without his coat he was so  _ warm _ . “I’d be in favor of marrying beautiful commoners,” he stopped to place a wet kiss on her cheek, “But you’ve already turned me down.”    
  
She turned in his arms to face him. This was light. He was making jokes. They were talking about seven months ago and he didn’t seem to be vindictive about it at all.

“I’ll turn you down again. Your stupid repressive country is  _ freezing _ . And you just made a very good case for why  _ we _ couldn't marry anyway. Besides, I have a lot of work to do with the Mittlefrank company. We have a very exciting season coming up, you should come.” 

He laughed it off, “Worth a try. I’ll have you know that while we’re all one country now, Gautier is  _ even colder _ . And if things at the border ever calm down I will.”    
  
She was actually quite proud of the slate of shows coming up. Her adaptation of  _ Loog and The Maiden of The Wind  _ was one of the best things she had written to date. Her friends were out there inheriting titles and re-establishing territories. She was going to sway the people. Make everyone feel excited about their new King. She had spent the better part of a month looking for the absolute  _ tallest _ tenor she could find who would look half decent in a blonde wig and an eye patch. Sure the historic Loog’s hair color was unknown and there weren’t any records of him having lost an eye, but opera wasn’t about  _ subtlety.  _

Still wrapped in his arms, Dorothea tilted her head at Sylvain “Now speaking of rumors, let’s make a decent case for why two allegedly sane people would deign to go outside in this.”    
  
Kissing Sylvain was just as great as she remembered. Intense, never too wet. He liked to press into her neck with his thumbs and nip right behind her ear- he still made the most delightful little grunts while having his hair pulled. His beard was pleasantly scratchy, that was new. Dorothea tried to stem the longing that was starting to form- she couldn’t have more than this. She had to remember that.    
  
He broke apart, resting his chin on her head “I really missed you Thea”    
  
She wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face in his chest, “I missed you too. Really, come see me in Enbarr. Or I’ll be forced to tour. And you have no idea how difficult I am on tour.”

“I marched around the country with you. I know exactly how difficult you are on tour.” She hit him on the arm playfully.   
  
“Can we go inside before I die of frostbite? Or are there other insane traditions of your country you need to tell me about before I get myself killed by a sexually frustrated duke?”   
  
Sylvain threw his head back and laughed. He held out his arm and led them back into the ballroom. What once felt far too cold now felt somewhat downright balmy.   
  
Suddenly too warm, she took off his coat and handed it back. She found herself missing the heat but watched a few heads turn away, pretending they hadn’t been staring at her. Or Sylvain. Or them together making out on the balcony. Perhaps even _that_ was too scandalous for these uptight nobles.   
  
Before they could even get their bearings Sylvain was suddenly waylaid by a very flushed Ingrid, “Felix is looking for you,” she said to his shoes.   
  
Sylvain smiled, “Ahh guess it’s time to fulfill my duty. Funnily enough Dorothea, First Men are usually supposed to be married but I got a special dispensation because no one would stand up in a Faerghus court and say I don’t know what sex sounds like.”   
  
Ingrid somehow turned even redder, “Sylvain! Now!” and pushed him towards the door.   
  
Dorothea hid her smile and whisked Ingrid away, changing the subject to _Loog_ lore to distract her flustered friend.   
  
Later, on her way to get her final drink of the night, Dorothea bumped into a familiar head of red hair. “Well that was quick, you weren’t kidding about the happy couple’s _urgency_ …” the last word faded off as the man turned. Not Sylvain at all. A familiar face frowned at her, lips in a stern line. “I beg your pardon?”   
  
Despite the cold Dorothea began to sweat, “So sorry Margrave, I thought you were someone else. I’m Dorothea Arnault, the songstress. I was a general in the Kingdom army. I’m a friend of your son’s” His frown deepened. Wrong thing to say clearly. “Lovely wedding isn’t it?” She tried instead- Smoothing things over with grumpy men was something of a specialty of hers.   
  
He grunted and pushed past her muttering something that sounded a whole lot like _philandering with low class common women,_ but she couldn’t be sure. Or at least refused to be. 

She had never met Sylvain’s father before, and only heard the briefest descriptions of him from Sylvain. She had heard there was a family resemblance, but Sylvain truly was the spitting image of his dad. Decades younger, a little thinner, and sporting facial hair. Seemingly capable of smiling. 

Dorothea was left with the sudden realization that maybe it wasn’t his own face that Sylvain was trying to avoid in the mirror.    
  
She sighed and began to trek to her guest room. In her youth she really believed that she could marry her way to happiness. And maybe that was true for some, just that morning she had seen Annette try to suppress her beaming smile through her excruciatingly long and pious wedding ceremony.    
  
She was absolutely sure of one thing- nobility would certainly not suit Dorothea. Too many rules, too many judging eyes. And absolutely not Kingdom nobility- not that, seemingly, the option would even be available to her given the arcane rules in place about  _ virginity _ and  _ bloodlines _ .    
  
If a norm was strict or powerful enough to make Felix  _ chivalry is dumb and my countrymen dumber  _ Fraldarius think before he acted...   
  
Sylvain treated those rules as if they were obvious and inevitable; why had he asked her?    
  
She thought back to the last time she had seen Sylvain- as he was preparing to leave Enbarr after the war was won.    
  


_ "You should come with me, to my territory. Plenty of people to help up there." _ _   
_ _   
_ _ "I want to stay here, the city needs help. Dimitri is my king but… Enbarr is my home. I want to rebuild the Opera company."  _

_ "You always said you wanted security, I’d give that to you. I have money, I have connections. You’ve said it yourself I’m a catch. I could build you an opera house in Gautier. You’ll be too far away here, and I won’t be able to help you." _

_   
_ _ "Then stay here. You seem to have no love for your family. You resent your nobility. What’s one more responsibility to shirk Sylvain?" _ _   
_ _   
_ _ "You don’t understand Dorothea. I have to… There are other fights to fight. This war is over but…" _ _   
_ _   
_ _ "Sylvain I’m not going to go all the way to the end of the world for you to get bored with me in three months."  _

_ "I’d never get bored of you Thea." _

_ "You would. That’s what you do. I’m not going to be your mistress. You’re not being fair."  _

  
  


At the time she had thought he was kidding.  _ Come home with him _ . To do what exactly? But the next morning, when she was kissing him goodbye for what felt like the very last time, he asked again. She thanked him for the fun, for the comfort, for his friendship. He smiled “Not for the sex?” She laughed in his face.    
  
“But seriously Thea… We could do worse than growing old together.”    
  
“Okay. Call me when I’m old.”    
  
He mimed being hit, “Ouch. The offer stands. Just say the word.” 

They said their final goodbyes and that was it. Chapter closed. Sylvain was off fighting on the border the very next month or so his letters claimed. And Dorthea was done with fighting. 

And yet…    
  
Seeing him again reminded her just why they had clicked. Not just physically, though that had always been a plus. Sylvain never shut up, but he didn’t like to talk. He would with her. They flirted so easily. He could make her happy talking about something stupid or serious. Like tonight. She wanted to Thoron Faerghus in the face for making Felix and Annette deny themselves for so long while  _ fighting for their lives _ . So obsessed with rules and propriety to ensure the future that it forgot to let people live.    
  
The former empire was no better frankly. The exact opposite, bastards were totally fine and acceptable if you manage to get a crest on one. But definitely no better.    
  
Which brought her back to Sylvain. He simply couldn’t understand what he was doing by playing with her like this. Absolutely guaranteed his future, his inheritance, his title. Willing to criticize his country and publicly break the rules, but just as willing to play into them when it suited.    
  


He didn’t love her. He liked the idea of her, he had fun with her. He knew her as more than a pretty singer, sure. They were friends, and sometimes more than that when the urge hit. But someone as broken as Sylvain just didn’t love people like Dorothea.    
  
If he loved her, he wouldn’t have joked about her marrying him. 


	2. The different, but equally complicated Adrestian repression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You need to stop joking about marrying me. It's cruel"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complicated people with complicated feelings. We love to see it.

Dorothea always seemed to find herself staring at Sylvain’s door. He had made a point of pointing it out the night before, smiling and winking  _ in case she needed to know _ . A little part of her knew this was stupid, he was in all likelihood asleep on a couch in the Duke’s private apartments. No one would answer his door. Or worse, his father would answer it. Or even worse and more likely some other woman.    
  
But she knocked and within moments she was greeted with the incomparably messy bedhead of one Sylvain Jose Gautier.    
  
He didn’t look terribly surprised, as if he was expecting someone to come- maybe her, maybe someone else. “Thea, to what do I owe the honor?” He gestured for her to come her inside. From her first glance his room was larger than the small guest room she had been allotted, with much finer furnishings. It was also in a much more populated part of the hallway. She didn’t want to be caught here. She shut the door behind them quickly.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be here” she said quietly, hating herself. Why did she come? Why? 

  
“Well I am so pleased to surprise you. Yeah, the newlyweds dismissed me pretty much instantly so here I am,” There was a small couch in front of the bed. Sylvain gestured for Dorthea to sit and closed the space between the two of them. That’s good. That felt safer.    
  
“Ouch, for Felix’s sake you shouldn’t go around sharing that kind of information,” she joked, trying to break the tension.    
  
It worked. Sylvain howled, throwing his head back. “Oh! No! I can only claim they performed admirably and for an appropriate amount of time. I read two chapters in my book, the door cracked open Felix stuck his head out and told me in no uncertain terms to get lost or he’d kill me and I yelled to Annette for a review and got kicked out by a highly underdressed groom.” 

  
Dorothea joined his laughter, Felix had plenty of experience simply leaving rooms when he was uncomfortable, he had little experience clearing one on his own. “So no review?” 

In his best Annette impression Sylvain squealed “‘We’re good, please leave, thanks!”    
  
“Your Annette needs work” she kissed him on the cheek.    
  
He turned his face and kissed her back. Far less gently than earlier that night. The bed was feet away and his hands were so warm- burning her skin, nails scraping her back of her neck. Dorothea let herself have a moment to enjoy him- one moment to remind herself why she put up with his jokes and his moods. His willingness to scream about the system that hurt him, but utilize it for his own gain. No, she needed to stop this- it was all too easy. She was falling onto bad habits.    
  
“So is this what you came here for or…?” he murmured into her neck   
  
“More or” she placed her hands on his chest which was somehow bare despite the impossibly cold night. Another reminder of how he was built for this place, how he belonged. She would never measure up, she would never be comfortable.    
  
“I’ve got nothing but time for you Dorothea.” 

  
She paused, and ran her fingers through his beard. She had yet to appreciate it properly. She might later. After they talked. If there was an after.    
  
“You need to stop joking about marrying me. It’s cruel.”    
  
His eyes widened and he had the grace to be embarrassed, blushing.    
  
“I’m not joking”    
  
“You are though. You said it tonight, people have  _ objections _ . Even if I wanted to, if we wanted to, we couldn’t. I’m  _ from _ the Empire. I don’t have a title. We’ve slept together dozens of times and it’s not like we’re each other’s one and only. You couldn’t possibly marry me even if you actually wanted to so please stop pretending.”    
  
Sylvain grasped her hands.    
  
“Does it seem like I’ve ever cared about anyone’s  _ objections _ ? Dorothea nobody gives a shit what I do as long as I can hold the border and maybe pop out a few more warm bodies. I’ve been a good for nothing my whole life, if I got married everyone would be so thrilled I actually did they wouldn’t care who it was to.”    
  
Dorothea frowned, “Wow you really know how to flatter a woman”    
  
He realized his misstep and tried to maneuver, “It’s not about you! Wait! That’s not what I meant… What I’m saying is I wasn’t lying. I’ve done whatever I want to do my whole life because there aren’t actually any consequences to my actions as long as I can replace myself. That’s what being me means! That’s having a crest is Faerghus! The only person who’s ever wanted my title is long dead. No one is going to oppose a crested  _ war hero  _ who’s the only one in this country who is  _ still fighting _ because nobody wants the job.” 

Sylvain’s eyes darkened and he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. It became even wilder, curlier as he messed with it. Dorothea had to stop staring at him. This is what he did- this is how he drew her in. His eyes suddenly fixed on her.

“Frankly, Dorothea, you make jokes about marriage all the time”    
  
This smarted. How dare he compare the two of them. Marriage to him was a trap, to her it was survival. He knew that- he knew why. How  _ dare _ he?

“But not to you! We had a great thing going Sylvain, but now we live on opposite ends of the country. If we sleep together at weddings and when we make occasional visits that’s fine but I can’t have you dangling marriage over my head like it will actually happen.” She sprang up from the couch as if it had suddenly ignited. They were sitting too close. He’s too close and the room is too warm and why on earth did she come here? 

“Dorothea do you want to get married?” 

This stopped her in her tracks. For all her annoyance at the situation, Dorothea had only thought about how  _ Sylvain _ didn’t want to get married.  _ Sylvain _ didn’t love her.   
  
“I don’t… I don’t know. Not now.” She blushed and turned to face the fire. It was less intense than the other point of interest in the room. 

“Not… Now? Not to me? What is it? You can break my heart, go ahead, I’m great at recovering from injuries you know. Very strong. Very resilient.” 

This, she realized, was the problem. He seemed serious, but she could never really tell where she stood with him.    
  
“I have too much to do with Mittlefrank, I can’t leave them.”    
  
“Dorothea that is not an answer.”    
  
“I know! I know. But please stop pretending with me. Please just tell me what you want and I’ll respond but you act as if you take this seriously but I know you’re off philandering and I can’t get my hopes up and have you let me down. I’ll hate you, and I don’t want to hate you Sylvie.”    
  
“I don’t want you to hate me either.” He said in a small voice. Sylvain reached for her hand.    
  
She refused to take it, wrapping her arms around herself “Please just tell me what you want.”    
  
Sylvain looked hurt and snatched his hand back “I’m trying to! Dorothea I messed this up. I’m not good at this. But you’re accusing me of things I haven’t done. I tried to sleep with one girl on the way home to Gautier, and I couldn’t go through with it because she wasn’t you. I had a fling with a man while I was in the mountains because I was lonely and I thought  _ it’s been a while since I’ve been with a man. Maybe some variety would help  _ but it didn’t feel good. It usually does, it’s usually exciting and I like to chase people and be liked and admired and it just felt wrong. Everyone who’s not you feels wrong.” He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t stand to look at her.    
  
Dorothea gasped quietly. She wanted to sink to her knees. She wanted to cry. She wanted to grab him and kiss him and tell him she would marry him- but she couldn’t. It wasn’t that simple. Did she love him? Maybe she could let herself love him. But there was a reason she never did. That when she felt fondness bubbling up she pushed him away.    
  
“Sylvain it’s been seven months. That’s not so long for most people. I can’t pack up my entire life and come here only to be told that I’m not good enough to marry you. I can’t turn around a few years from now when I can’t give you crested children and have all the nobles going  _ well he’s still young, he can try with a new wife. An appropriate one. _ I won’t be thrown away Sylvain. I will not be your anti-crest, anti-nobility rebellion”    
  
Sylvain’s gaze was ice. “Is that really what you think of me?”    
  
No. She didn’t. Not really. But how could she tell him? He didn’t know about her father. He didn’t understand. They had come so far, they had grown so close. But there were little pockets of her heart that she had trouble sharing with anyone.    
  
She let the silence go on a beat too long before she whispered, “No” 

“I don’t know what I can do to convince you. I’ve asked you four times. You told me to stop joking, but I’m not joking. I’m going to keep asking. I won’t throw you away. I don’t care if our children have crests or not. I don’t care if I have to fight every claim on my title or every noble who submits an objection to our union. I’ll duel everyone in Foldan if I need to. Please just say yes.”    
  
Dorothea collapsed into a puddle on the ground. Her legs weren’t steady anymore, she wasn’t sure which way was up.    
  
“Why?” she questioned.    
  
“Because I love you. I’m seriously in love with you. You are the only woman who was ever honest with me, who saw me for who I was and still wanted to get to know me. You’ve never given a shit about my  _ potential _ . Money sure, but you were honest about that. But you listened to me jabber on about  _ history _ and  _ board games _ and actually cared that I cared about something! I even have an inkling that my nobility is a minus with you these days.”    
  
“It definitely is” she smiled at him    
  
He laughed “That’s what I’m saying. We’re great together. Please just give me a chance to prove that to you”

Sylvain grasped her arms and pulled her onto the couch.    
  
“Sylvain I’m not saying no.” His face lit up, “I’m not saying yes either. Can we… I have an Opera season to get through. Keep writing me letters. Come see me in Enbarr. I’ll visit Gautier after. Then we’ll talk about it seriously.”    
  
Sylvain wrapped his arms around Dorothea and buried his face in her hair. “Okay. I can do that. I can prove my love to you. It’s your choice, I’d get why you wouldn’t want to tie yourself to this mess. I don’t know how to make someone happy, but I want to try. I really would.” 

“I look forward to that,” She turned to face him and lifted his head off of her shoulder. There were still things she would need to tell him. There were still things she had to decide about herself, about her future.    
  
But for now she could kiss him in a freezing bedroom in Fraldarius. Plan the Mittlefrank season. Legitimacy, crests, nobility. All of that could wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next morning Sylvain sees Dimitri trying to talk to Marianne and realizes he's not 100% sure Dimitri knows what sex actually entails and has to remedy that immediately. In front of everyone.  
> It's the first time Dorothea lets herself think "I love him"

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, most people don't actually have sex on their wedding night


End file.
